Why we should stop writing about writing about wine
I fully realise the irony of the intent of this piece. By arguing that we should stop writing about wine writing I am doing what I’m telling others we shouldn’t be doing: writing about wine writing. But I’m going to anyway. [This situation reminds me of when fellow writer Guy Woodward described me as ‘the notoriously thin-skinned Jamie Goode’ – even though I’m not sure I’d claim that title, it’s impossible to counter, without sounding very thin skinned indeed.]
It’s not that this isn’t an interesting topic, nor that it is an important one. It’s just that it’s an interesting and important topic for a very few people. To a wine writer, this is a topic of utmost concern, because we are talking about how we stay relevant and make money in a rapidly shifting media environment. To the average wine writer who makes a living from their craft (and there aren’t too many of those; for a good chunk of published wine journos, this is a sideline, or a hobby, or is a full-time living subsidized by a previously successful career or a partner) there is no more important topic, but it’s a discussion best had in private, if we are writing for consumers. Most of them won’t find it interesting, and fewer will care.
Of course, there are some writers whose ecosystem is the wine trade bubble, and then it’s perfectly fine to talk about such things.
But while I’m committing the grave error of writing about writing about wine, a few thoughts, which are especially targeted at those starting out.
The first is that this is a big ecosystem and there’s room for people doing all sorts of different things, and there is definitely room for newcomers. If you want to write about wine, then do, and find your niche. There’s a spot for you, making best use of your talents and interests, so go and find the sorts of stories that interest you, and write them.
Make use of the wine communication toolkit. There are lots of ways of communicating, so use the best tool for the job, whether this is long-form, short-form, visual, audio or a mix of all, and make good use of social media.
It’s a crowded world out there, and there are lots of voices. Don’t get lost by hiding yourself behind a paywall. Fish where the fish are, and don’t expect them to come to you. Work the seam, when you find one (a mining analogy, not a sewing one).
Have a balanced diet. Don’t overdo editorial or opinion pieces. Go taste, go visit, go eat, and report back. Shine a light where it is rarely shone, and be useful in this way. Too much wine writing is yet another opinion piece and it’s so dull, even when the takes are good (they rarely are).
Don’t think you will progress by taking others down. Take your eyes off the ‘competition’. Be collegiate: this is a small world. Assume everyone is nice until they prove that they aren’t, and simply avoid the people that aren’t nice. Don’t be a grifter, and avoid the grifters.
And one last tip: get a job. A proper job. And do wine writing in your spare time. If your writing takes off, hold onto the job as long as possible before ditching it. I began earning money from wine in 2000, and I quit my day job in 2008, after already having a book deal, a newspaper column, and two Glenfiddich Awards. Having a proper income allows you time to establish yourself, and then launch full time with a cushion behind you. If you launch straight into writing you will be poor and you will be forced into taking gigs you don’t really want in order to pay the bills. It’s hard work to get established while you already have a day job, but it teaches you good habits and you generate a work ethic that will carry you later. Those who don’t have to make a living from their writing rarely succeed because they don’t have this urgent drive to perform and they often end up swanning around on tasting and tours without ever delivering something that someone would pay for.
